Charka came to the Fat Ewe Farm at the age of 10 weeks, a black ball of fluff with kind brown eyes. He was from a litter of 11 puppies, 10 white, and his parents and grandsires were white as well. No one had any explanation at all for his colouring. But I fell in love with that dog right away. He was much larger than the other pups, too, and stayed off by himself with another puppy. The pups were not handled at all, as they were livestock guardian dogs and the thinking then was hands off.
I brought Charka home and put him on the porch with a bowl and a dog house. Robbie was already here and two rough collies, Anna and Joseph, who both met their demise on the demon of a highway bordering the farm. The dog across the highway was not spayed and was in heat, so Joseph went there a lot and Anna followed, that is until they did not come back. First Anna was hit and then a few months later, Joseph. I had the yard fenced by then, but too late for those two. I did not want any other dogs ever near the highway.
Charka was a rough teenager and took a liking to chasing the duckling and ducks, playing hard, accidentally killing them and then eating them. Everyone told me to get rid of him. Once a dog has tasted blood then he will never be a good dog. Gads! I did not believe that at all. I tied Charka up outside my window and watched him closely. When I was outside he was free to run, but when he started going across the highway, I tied him to a pallet, which he dragged around the yard, but it would not go over the fence with him. As far as the ducks went, when I caught him killing the last one, I beat him with it and yelled at him and kept at it until he rolled on his back and submitted. Then I put the duck on the ground beside him and every time he so much as looked at it, I yelled at him. Case was closed. Charka never went near a duck again.
Charka was always first at the gate to greet me and he sang. He would sing in his hello voice, his big shaggy tail wagging his body. Those loving gentle brown eyes always stole my heart though. Charka got porcupine quills when he was young and would not let anyone come near him. He was in such misery. Finally, I got a horse tranquilizer and gave him enough to knock a horse out, but Charka would not allow himself to go to sleep. Stubborn boy! Two days later, he must have been such terrible agony because the quills were working their way inside his mouth and face and some men and I cornered him with area carpets and forced him into the kennel. I shut the door and they loaded him into the truck and off to the vet's we went.Almost 400 dollars later, I picked him up in my smart car. That was not smart! He sat on my lap all the way home. Here I am with a 150 pound scared dog on my lap trying to see the road around him.
Charka did not come to the gate yesterday. He did not sing for me. He was not at the porch or in the dog houses. He was not there this morning either. My son and I combed the quarter and did not find any sign of him, and not many prints, though with the melting snow, it was somewhat difficult to tell exactly how fresh the tracks were. I did see a lone wolf last week, running as fast as he could down the far second fence line. The dogs have been chasing coyotes too, but they are never out there alone. Gentle as Charka is, I think he could hold his own in a good fight with the back up of the pack. And it is just so unlike him to not come home right away.
I am going to hold out for his return, safe and unharmed. I already miss him immensely. What would I do without my Charka dog? Sigh, big sad sigh.
I brought Charka home and put him on the porch with a bowl and a dog house. Robbie was already here and two rough collies, Anna and Joseph, who both met their demise on the demon of a highway bordering the farm. The dog across the highway was not spayed and was in heat, so Joseph went there a lot and Anna followed, that is until they did not come back. First Anna was hit and then a few months later, Joseph. I had the yard fenced by then, but too late for those two. I did not want any other dogs ever near the highway.
Charka was a rough teenager and took a liking to chasing the duckling and ducks, playing hard, accidentally killing them and then eating them. Everyone told me to get rid of him. Once a dog has tasted blood then he will never be a good dog. Gads! I did not believe that at all. I tied Charka up outside my window and watched him closely. When I was outside he was free to run, but when he started going across the highway, I tied him to a pallet, which he dragged around the yard, but it would not go over the fence with him. As far as the ducks went, when I caught him killing the last one, I beat him with it and yelled at him and kept at it until he rolled on his back and submitted. Then I put the duck on the ground beside him and every time he so much as looked at it, I yelled at him. Case was closed. Charka never went near a duck again.
Charka was always first at the gate to greet me and he sang. He would sing in his hello voice, his big shaggy tail wagging his body. Those loving gentle brown eyes always stole my heart though. Charka got porcupine quills when he was young and would not let anyone come near him. He was in such misery. Finally, I got a horse tranquilizer and gave him enough to knock a horse out, but Charka would not allow himself to go to sleep. Stubborn boy! Two days later, he must have been such terrible agony because the quills were working their way inside his mouth and face and some men and I cornered him with area carpets and forced him into the kennel. I shut the door and they loaded him into the truck and off to the vet's we went.Almost 400 dollars later, I picked him up in my smart car. That was not smart! He sat on my lap all the way home. Here I am with a 150 pound scared dog on my lap trying to see the road around him.
Charka did not come to the gate yesterday. He did not sing for me. He was not at the porch or in the dog houses. He was not there this morning either. My son and I combed the quarter and did not find any sign of him, and not many prints, though with the melting snow, it was somewhat difficult to tell exactly how fresh the tracks were. I did see a lone wolf last week, running as fast as he could down the far second fence line. The dogs have been chasing coyotes too, but they are never out there alone. Gentle as Charka is, I think he could hold his own in a good fight with the back up of the pack. And it is just so unlike him to not come home right away.
I am going to hold out for his return, safe and unharmed. I already miss him immensely. What would I do without my Charka dog? Sigh, big sad sigh.
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